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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29232987">Far Longer Than Forevermore</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/prototyping/pseuds/prototyping'>prototyping</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fantasy, Fluff, Inspired by Swan Princess (1994), It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Minor Character Death, Romance, violence/death in later chapters</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 09:14:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,559</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29232987</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/prototyping/pseuds/prototyping</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>For as long as they remember, a prince and a daughter of the Church have been told they would one day wed, expected to unite their families with the everlasting vow of marriage. Exceeding their parents’ expectations, they grow close and fall in love, only to be separated by a traitor’s wicked bid for vengeance.</p>
<p>Although far apart, the prince’s love remains true and he dedicates his life to finding his beloved again, undaunted by the rumors of black magic and Demonic Beasts that threaten to stand in his way.</p>
<p>A Dimileth AU heavily inspired by The Swan Princess.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth, Jeralt Reus Eisner/Sitri Eisner | Byleth's Mother</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>100</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Far Longer Than Forevermore</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>me? writing another chaptered fic?? it’s more likely than you think.</p>
<p>knowledge of the Swan Princess movies isn’t necessary to read this, so no worries if you haven’t seen them (although I highly!! recommend!! the first one at the least!).</p>
<p>also, for those of you who may keep track of these things, I’m altering the geography of Fodlan a bit in this fic, purely for plot reasons. Faerghus is still in the cold north, etc., but a few small details will differ from canon.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I hope you quit making that face by the time we arrive. Or do you want to scare the poor boy away?”</p>
<p>Jeralt Eisner straightened up in his saddle, realizing he was starting to slouch as his mind wandered, and blinked the tired haze from his eyes before turning to his wife. Sitri had guided her mare closer to speak with him in a low voice, but her bright eyes sparkled with teasing warmth. As usual, he couldn’t resist smiling when she looked at him so.</p>
<p>“Do you think it would work?” he half-joked.</p>
<p>She sighed with a small shake of her head that sent her green hair bouncing around her shoulders. “You haven’t even met him, Jeralt. Give him a chance.”</p>
<p>He grunted quietly and fixed his gaze ahead, looking over the heads of the guards who rode in front of them. There was still nothing but meadows and grasslands as far as the eye could see.</p>
<p>He and Sitri had already talked at length about this over the last year, so there was nothing new to be said. It was too late for him to raise any objections now, two days into the journey north, and he wasn’t about to speak his mind freely in present company regardless. He cast a glance over his shoulder at the elegant carriage that followed only a little ways behind them.</p>
<p>“I know,” he muttered. “She has faith.” He kept the skepticism out of his tone this time. Sitri reached over and placed her hand on his, smiling gratefully, and he gently gripped her fingers in return.</p>
<p>“Thank you, love. But it’s as we agreed－the decision rests on Byleth in the end. Heritage or no, I would never ask her to do anything that would make her unhappy. Her Grace understands that.” She gave his hand a light squeeze and cocked an eyebrow. “Besides, she has too much of her father in her to settle for just anything. I imagine she’d sooner run away and start a mercenary band out in the wilderness.”</p>
<p>Jeralt gave a short but hearty laugh. “I don’t know, Sitri. Bad taste in men runs in her blood.”</p>
<p>As if summoned by name, their daughter suddenly sped past in a blur on her own mount. They watched as she slowed to draw up alongside one of the knights near the head of the company, exchanging a few words with him before tugging her horse back around and smoothly kicking him into a canter back towards her parents. She offered them both a bright smile that was the mirror image of Sitri.</p>
<p>“Aloise says we’re about to cross the Kingdom border.” Again she directed her steed into a smooth turnabout, falling into step beside the couple as easily as an experienced rider twice her age. “How can we tell?”</p>
<p>“We’ll run into the border patrol once we clear the forest up ahead,” Jeralt answered. “The landscape won’t change much until we cross the Airmid River.”</p>
<p>Byleth looked mildly disappointed as she glanced ahead. Jeralt chuckled as he reached over and ruffled her hair. “No need to rush, By. You’ll have more than enough time to enjoy Faerghus when we get there.”</p>
<p>Three months, to be exact, which was still far too long to him. He was grateful for being given leave to go with her and Sitri, even if he was expected to do so as a knight of Garreg Mach just as much as a concerned father (if not more so), but the whole summer seemed like overkill, especially for a first meeting. He wondered, briefly, how plans would change if she and the boy ended up hating each other－only for him to immediately cast the possibility aside as highly unlikely. Perhaps he was biased, but he had a difficult time imagining anyone disliking Byleth, and she had gotten along just fine with everyone at the monastery her whole life, regardless of age or gender or station.</p>
<p>Unless this prince was the worst of his kind, who would look down on a girl of the Church for not being meek and subservient enough, he would find himself on Byleth’s good side as quickly as the next person.</p>
<p>Jeralt resisted frowning again. That was the preferred outcome, but he wasn’t fond of it, either.</p>
<p>Byleth hummed, either a thoughtful or an impatient sound. She looked all too much like the child of twelve years that she was, venturing beyond the grounds of the monastery for the first time in her life, and not at all like this <em>Next</em> <em>Coming of Sothis</em> that the Church and its upper brass were so hooked on.</p>
<p>But Blessed Heir or not, Jeralt acknowledged, this arrangement would give her opportunities that most people could only dream of, so there was that.</p>
<p><em>If</em> Byleth accepted.</p>
<p>He didn’t give a damn about the faith or the prophecies or even his loyalty to Rhea—not before his family, at least. He would fight and die in the High Priestess’ service if called to do so, as was his duty, but he would never put it before his daughter. For all Sitri’s dedication and gratitude towards the Church, he knew she felt the same.</p>
<p>That mutual understanding and resolve made him feel better about this whole mess.</p>
<p>He still didn’t like it.</p>
<p>* * *</p>
<p>King Lambert Egitte Blaiddyd, ruler of the Kingdom of Faerghus, faced a dilemma.</p>
<p>He was no stranger to challenges or hardship. He had ascended the throne at the age of eighteen following the untimely death of his father, nearly five years sooner than most men of his line. He’d had to make up for his inexperience as he went, balancing the day-to-day responsibilities he had been taught upfront with the lesser known burdens he had not been prepared for, such as the plague that hit the capital city a decade ago.</p>
<p>He had lost his wife shortly afterwards and, once again, had to learn as he went, now with raising their only child as the sole parent.</p>
<p>Just last year, he had discharged one of his most trusted advisors after finding her indubitably guilty of treason, a shock he had yet to recover from despite outward appearances.</p>
<p>Despite these trials, Lambert considered himself a happy man blessed with a happy life—he still had his beloved son, his closest friends, the safety and security of his Kingdom—and had yet to waver in the face of any obstacles thrown at him during his reign thus far.</p>
<p>Until today.</p>
<p>It was the evening before the arrival of the envoys from Garreg Mach—specifically, the High Priestess Rhea and her descendant, who were journeying across the country not to see Lambert, but the young boy currently sitting across from him at the dinner table. Despite his small stature, the similarities between father and son were unmistakable in their golden hair and bright blue eyes. The boy had a round face that he would likely grow into by adulthood, like Lambert once did, and a skinny frame that would bulk up once he learned a more proper hold on his abilities.</p>
<p>He wore a smile when making eye contact and his voice was cheerful when addressed, but there was a strain in both tonight that Lambert would have to be utterly oblivious to have missed. Even at ten years of age, the boy was developing a concerning habit of concealing his feelings when distressed. Such resiliency was necessary at times for men of their stations, but seeing that struggle in his son again now, in private, prompted Lambert to address what had been on his mind.</p>
<p>“Dimitri, you recall meeting Lady Rhea once, don’t you?”</p>
<p>Prince Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, heir to the throne, immediately raised his eyes in a thoughtful expression. “Yes, Father. She spoke to me at the summer harvest festival.”</p>
<p>“What did you think of her?”</p>
<p>“She was kind.”</p>
<p>Lambert smiled as he sipped at his wine. Dimitri had no shortage of kindness in his heart, so it was typical of him to assume others were just as kind as he unless shown otherwise, just as it was typical of him to remember that quality in a person first and foremost.</p>
<p>“I’m certain she’ll be pleased that you remember her. I am told her Daughter is very kind, as well, and she is looking forward to visiting.”</p>
<p><em>Daughter</em> was a general term in the Seiros line, referring to any woman born as a direct descendant of the founding matriarch. Given the family’s gift of longevity, there was no telling how many generations actually existed between Rhea and the current Heir, but in the Church’s terminology, the current High Priestess was regarded as the overseer of all the Daughters who came after her.</p>
<p>Dimitri had been taught much about the Church’s methodology in the last year, and now took in Lambert’s comment with an unperturbed nod.</p>
<p>“Yes, Father.”</p>
<p>There it was again. Setting his goblet down, Lambert regarded Dimitri evenly for a moment.</p>
<p>“If there is something on your mind, son, you can say so.” He was certain he knew what it was, but he didn’t want to drag it out of him if he wasn’t willing.</p>
<p>Dimitri’s gaze wavered, the corners of his mouth twitching downward. “It’s… nothing, Father.”</p>
<p>Lambert kept his voice gentle and patient, but Dimitri still winced when asked,</p>
<p>“Is this about Edelgard?”</p>
<p>“I… um…”</p>
<p>The king smiled sympathetically, even if Dimitri wouldn’t look up to see it. “There’s no shame in admitting you miss her.”</p>
<p>“I…” Dimitri shifted in his seat as he struggled for words. “I know she had to go home. I just… I don’t like not knowing when I’ll see her again.”</p>
<p>Two months would have been an eternity to a boy his age. His unease was understandable, having heard nothing from his friend since. “I know it’s difficult to bear,” Lambert agreed with a nod. “But the Empire’s politics are… very unstable right now. She and her family are likely very busy.”</p>
<p>That was sugarcoating the matter, but he could see no point in making Dimitri even more anxious. The girl had seemed like a kind and proper little lady, untouched by the cutthroat methods of her homeland just yet. For her sake, Lambert liked to think her brief asylum in Faerghus had helped her avoid some hardships, but he wasn’t placing much faith in that hope. Adrestia preferred to be as self-sufficient and independent of its neighbors as possible; whatever internal strife it was attempting to smooth over these days, its nobility was keen to do so without outside assistance. Edelgard would have to adapt to that environment one way or the other.</p>
<p>As for Dimitri, he seemed to be suffering some mild heartbreak since then. In hindsight, it wasn’t surprising; his closest friends were only seen in short bursts during visits, a week at most here and there, while he had spent many days in Edelgard’s company for over a year—nearly every day, towards the end of it. Now she was gone, with no definitive answer on when or whether they would meet again.</p>
<p>And then there was the current matter of his being shuffled along and expected to grow close to another young girl. Whether he feared more heartbreak or his young mind suspected a ploy by his father to replace his friend, Dimitri appeared more and more hesitant about the meeting as the day drew closer. He never said so, but a boy as honest as he couldn’t hide his thoughts and feelings as well as he probably hoped to.</p>
<p>
  <em>His mother would know what to say.</em>
</p>
<p>She always spoke her mind so easily, something that had attracted Lambert to her immediately. He couldn’t help wondering whether Dimitri would be more expressive—if he would be happier with himself—were she still with them.</p>
<p>Lambert withheld a sigh. Thinking like that wouldn’t help either of them.</p>
<p>“I’m sure she’s thinking of you, as well,” he said, “but I imagine she’s fulfilling her duties as princess as best she can, and expects you to do the same while she’s away.”</p>
<p>Dimitri actually smiled slightly at that. “She would tell me not to get distracted. And she would probably get mad at me if I didn’t live the same way I told her to.”</p>
<p>“Oh? What did you tell her?”</p>
<p>“To never give up, no matter how tough things get.”</p>
<p>A softer smile crossed Lambert’s face as he regarded his son. Perhaps he was worrying too much. The boy seemed headed in the right direction, although some would surely think him too soft. Lambert wasn’t one of them.</p>
<p>“Indeed, that’s some fine advice.”</p>
<p>* * *</p>
<p>The excitement that bubbled in Byleth’s chest upon finally arriving in Fhirdiad after days of mostly monotonous riding was quickly tempered by the following morning, when her mother roused her bright and early to help her prepare for the meeting with the royal family that afternoon.</p>
<p>Byleth was used to dressing respectably. She wore a modest gown most of the time at the monastery and possessed several fancier dresses for holidays and special rituals. She only wore pants when riding and during sword practice, and had been permitted to do so during the journey here. Now, as she bathed in the corner of the enormous guest bedroom provided by one of the local nobles, she watched as Sitri unfolded a new gown and held it up for her to see.</p>
<p>“What do you think, Byleth?”</p>
<p>She had no particularly strong opinion either way, but it was clear her mother was checking for her approval. “It’s pretty.”</p>
<p>The dress, she didn’t mind, but the effort to tame her unruly hair as it dried was nothing short of an annoyance. Byleth sat through it without complaint, simply glad for her mother’s gentle handling over the rough efficiency of some of the elderly nuns back home. She was equally glad she wasn’t compelled to wear any makeup. She had been allowed to experiment with Sitri’s things when she asked a couple years ago, but it seemed like wasted time when she could be doing something more interesting and she saw no reason to change her appearance. She wouldn’t have minded a light touch of the stuff like her mother preferred, but she inwardly cringed at the thought of the more gaudy appearances she’d seen on visiting noblewomen.</p>
<p>As her hair was patiently coaxed into small braids above her ears, Byleth wondered, “Will the prince be very different from the children at the monastery?”</p>
<p>She had been taught a lot regarding the mannerisms and etiquette of the nobility, which weren’t too difficult to absorb. She spoke often enough with Lady Rhea, sometimes adults and occasionally visiting children from the upper class, that she didn’t find the differences intimidating or too confusing. Now that the day had arrived, she found herself concerned less with presentability and more with just how she would be expected to pass the time with this boy. She didn’t talk much even around people she did know well.</p>
<p>“He comes from a very different place than you and I, so I’m sure the differences will stick out the most at first. But Lady Rhea assured me he’s very kind, and she thinks you’ll get along very well.”</p>
<p>Rhea’s approval wasn’t something to be given or taken lightly, Byleth knew, but she still had her doubts—not about Rhea’s judgment as much as her own ability to meet those lofty expectations.</p>
<p>“If he doesn’t like me, does that mean we have to leave?”</p>
<p>Sitri chuckled warmly. “I don’t think you need to worry, Byleth. But even if you don’t immediately see eye-to-eye, that’s just fine. Sometimes people must… well, they need to grow closer before they can really understand one another. You’ll have plenty of time to become friends, so there’s no need to fret if it doesn’t happen right away.”</p>
<p>That casual, soft spoken confidence meant more to Byleth than anything Rhea could have said. As usual, Sitri knew how to shift the pressure of expectation into reassurance with just a few words.</p>
<p>That particular choice of them gave Byleth pause, however.</p>
<p>“Friends?” she echoed.</p>
<p>Sitri nodded with a hum. “The two of you may be betrothed, but any good relationship starts as a friendship. Just be yourself, my dear. And if you both decide you want to proceed with the marriage, the rest will come naturally, with time.”</p>
<p>Byleth thought that over. She had only heard the prince referred to in terms of what their betrothal meant—her suitor, her fiancé, her future husband and king. The word <em>friend</em> hadn’t come up once that she could recall. Now that she looked at him <em>that</em> way, this whole arrangement didn’t feel quite as foreign and uncertain as it had before.</p>
<p>“Alright. I’ll do my best.” Byleth smiled at the mirror and her mother’s reflection, which smiled back.</p>
<p>* * *</p>
<p>A smack between Dimitri’s shoulder blades made him jump with a startled noise.</p>
<p>“At least <em>try</em> looking enthusiastic, Your Highness.”</p>
<p>He glared half-heartedly up at the knight beside him, one of the several chosen to accompany him and his father for the introductions. When Dimitri didn’t reply, the older boy shot him a cheeky grin.</p>
<p>“You’re not that nervous, are you?”</p>
<p>“<em>No</em>.”</p>
<p>“Then smile, before the girl thinks you hate her.”</p>
<p>That gave Dimitri pause. Was that a joke, or a possibility and a serious offense? He wasn’t expected to smile around her <em>all</em> the time to avoid upsetting her, was he?</p>
<p>“She wouldn’t think that,” he countered uncertainly.</p>
<p>“You’ve got a lot to learn.”</p>
<p>Lambert gave a good-natured chuckle. “Go easy on him, Glenn. I’m sure you recall meeting your betrothed for the first time.”</p>
<p>“I do very well, Your Majesty,” Glenn answered with a respectful bow at being addressed. “I also recall doing my best to put her at ease, which included smiling.”</p>
<p>Dimitri possessed enough ingrained etiquette to resist a sarcastic remark—however narrowly—and instead ignored him as his father added, “I’m sure she’s a little nervous, just like you, and that’s alright. Just remember that she’s traveled a long way from home, so this is all very new to her. She’ll be needing someone she can depend on to show her around and explain things to her.”</p>
<p>That didn’t sound too bad. Dimitri had been taught about the Church, but he wondered how much she knew about his home. He hadn’t spent much time in the lower levels of the city, but he could certainly try to answer her questions and tell her about the things he liked to do, his favorite places, around the castle or the nobles’ quarter.</p>
<p>Like he had with El.</p>
<p>He withheld a sigh. The sound of the courtyard gates swinging open pushed the thought from his mind as quickly as it had come.</p>
<p>He recognized the woman at the head of the small company, tall and graceful and smiling gently from atop her snow-white mount that matched her flowing gown. Lambert walked forward and Dimitri kept pace with him. High Priestess Rhea dismounted easily and met them halfway, where she and the king exchanged pleasantries and respectful gestures. She regarded Dimitri with a warm smile and greeted him likewise with a bow of her head, as one would a grown man rather than a child. It made him feel proud and nervous at the same time, but he remembered himself and returned the greeting accordingly.</p>
<p>She introduced the two adults who followed behind her, a smaller woman who resembled her and a large man with an expression that was somehow both bored and fierce. Between them was a girl whom he supposed also bore a resemblance to Rhea, although it wasn’t as noticeable with the darker color of her hair.</p>
<p>“Your Majesty, Your Highness,” said Rhea, “may I introduce Byleth Eisner, my family’s youngest Daughter, and the Blessed Heir of the Church.”</p>
<p><em>Blessed Heir</em>. Dimitri had failed to grasp the exact significance of that title, but he knew it meant she was important to the Church, that she was tied closely to what it taught about the Goddess. At the sound of her name, the girl stepped forward to stand beside Rhea.</p>
<p>Unlike the two women, Byleth didn’t smile. She didn’t look nervous or shy, but she didn’t exude the fierce confidence that El had during their first meeting, either. Byleth only studied Dimitri with neither interest nor disinterest for a moment, and then abruptly offered him a quick curtsy and the proper memorized line.</p>
<p>“Pleased to meet you, Your Highness.”</p>
<p>He gave the expected bow in return. He noticed Byleth’s mother smiling at him approvingly, while her father’s face remained unchanged. “The honor is mine, Lady Byleth.”</p>
<p>* * *</p>
<p>“Just Byleth is fine.”</p>
<p>Hours later, the first time they were left alone with one another, Byleth interrupted him to say this. At his curious glance, she explained, “My parents just use each other’s names. If we’re to be married, anyway, we shouldn’t have to use those kinds of titles.” After an instant’s hesitation, she added thoughtfully, “Unless you want to.”</p>
<p>“No, we don’t have to,” Dimitri agreed. He was a little surprised to hear her speak so much at once. Throughout the day, she had only spoken when addressed for the most part, and her remarks were never more than a few words. Maybe this was a sign that she felt comfortable around him, or maybe she was just more reserved around adults.</p>
<p>As per their guardians’ encouragement, the two of them had taken to walking the castle halls together. It was quiet, with only the occasional servant or patrolling guard passing them by, and until now the silence had only been broken when Dimitri pointed out an important room here and there.</p>
<p>“Do you find Faerghus to your liking?” he asked. Small talk was easy, even if it felt a little out of place. Arranged marriages were nothing strange in his eyes, but it was odd to think he had to make the effort to get to know her <em>now</em>, after the assumption that they would find one another agreeable.</p>
<p>“The food is good.” Byleth linked her arms behind her back as she glanced over the paintings on the walls. “I heard it snows a lot here. I’ve never seen it myself. Not like in books, anyway, where it always piles on the ground and there’s a lot of it.”</p>
<p>“Have you always lived in Garreg Mach?”</p>
<p>She nodded. “Before now, the farthest I’d gone was the woods around the monastery. I ride out there with my father all the time. Sometimes we go hunting.”</p>
<p>“You ride?” he asked in surprise. He had pictured her making the journey in a carriage, given her importance, and would have figured she had little use for horses on church grounds.</p>
<p>Byleth’s expression was still mild as she turned to him, but he had the impression he’d asked a stupid question. “Yes,” she said simply. “Do you?”</p>
<p>“I do. A lot. It’s my favorite pastime, probably.”</p>
<p>“Do you go very far? A prince must be able to ride wherever he wants.” There was a hint of something distant in her tone, but Dimitri shook his head.</p>
<p>“Usually around the castle grounds, but sometimes my father and I go into the fields outside. But I’ve never been hunting.”</p>
<p>She shrugged. “It can be fun tracking deer if you have good enough timing. But I like riding just to ride, too.”</p>
<p>Dimitri felt his opinion of her swiftly improving. Before he could inquire further, Byleth indicated over his shoulder at the set of doors they had nearly passed. “Where’s that lead?”</p>
<p>“Oh, that’s my family’s training hall. The knights have another one on the first floor.” He realized Byleth had fallen behind and he stopped. She turned to him with a gleam in her eye, the most interested she had appeared in anything so far.</p>
<p>“Can we go inside?”</p>
<p>The large room was dark when they entered, but the floor-to-ceiling windows at one end gave enough natural moonlight for them to see by once their eyes adjusted. Byleth walked ahead of him, examining the cabinets of well-kept weaponry and armor.</p>
<p>“You actually use these?” She stood before a display of polished swords, her head tilted back and her eyes a bit wider than before. “I’ve only seen blades this nice in ceremonies, or on display in the library.”</p>
<p>These were for similar purposes, but Dimitri couldn’t help ignoring her question to voice his own. “Can you use a sword, too?”</p>
<p>“Of course. Don’t you?”</p>
<p>“Well—yes, but I meant…” He struggled for a moment, searching for words that weren’t offensive. A girl his age studying the blade was hardly outlandish—he’d known Ingrid forever, after all—but… “Um… I didn’t know they taught swordplay in the Church.”</p>
<p>“The Church doesn’t. My father taught me.”</p>
<p>“...Isn’t your father a knight of the Church?”</p>
<p>She pulled her eyes away from the swords to cock her head at him, again with a look that made him question his own naivete. “Yes.”</p>
<p>For some reason those facts made sense to her, so Dimitri didn’t press for fear of being rude. There was probably a lot he still had to learn about the Church.</p>
<p>“You’re really strong, right?” Byleth asked suddenly. “I was told that’s your family’s Blessing.”</p>
<p>Dimitri tried not to frown, but he wasn’t sure he succeeded. It wasn’t a topic he discussed with others often, so it felt a little strange being confronted about it. “That’s right. But I’m not as strong as my father.”</p>
<p>“I would have liked to have that as my Blessing,” she mused.</p>
<p>“The Goddess blessed your family with health, right? And long lives?” Apparently the descendants of Seiros healed quickly, could be formidable in battle because of their resilience to injury, and weren’t known to fall ill to any diseases. Some, like the High Priestess, had lifespans that stretched across generations.</p>
<p>“Some of us,” she agreed. “Lady Rhea comes from a really long time ago, but she says no one else has lived past one hundred years since before she was born.”</p>
<p>One hundred years sounded unfathomably long to him. He couldn’t perceive such a time span, let alone the ability to consider it a short one.</p>
<p>“Well… I think yours sounds better,” he admitted. “My strength gets in the way all the time. I break things a lot.”</p>
<p>“But you must be a really strong swordsman, huh?”</p>
<p>“I’m better at the lance, actually. It’s tradition in my family to study it more than the sword.”</p>
<p>Byleth’s eyes lit up. “I’ve never seen someone actually use a lance before.” After studying him for a moment, she said, “Spar with me.”</p>
<p>“Wh—What?”</p>
<p>“You spar, don’t you?”</p>
<p>“Yes, but…” Was that… acceptable? Raising a weapon against a guest—his <em>betrothed</em>—even with good intent?</p>
<p>“Not <em>now</em>. I can’t spar in a gown.” She glanced down at her dress almost spitefully, and then shot him a hopeful look. “Tomorrow?”</p>
<p>Dimitri relaxed slightly. He could check with his father before then. “If… you think it’s alright, then maybe…”</p>
<p>For the first time since he’d met her that afternoon, Byleth smiled.</p>
<p>It was brief, small, and more satisfied than happy, but it was a smile.</p>
<p>For some reason, his face felt warm.</p>
<p> “Tomorrow,” she agreed, sounding certain.</p>
<p>“...Tomorrow,” he echoed.</p>
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